


You're Out of Your Mind

by mylifeisloki



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2175402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha comes up with several plans to get Steve laid. Clint offers commentary on each.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Attempt One: Speed Dating

There were a lot of ways someone could describe Natasha, if they were asked.

Tony would say that she was a fucking liar who was also way too quiet and enjoyed sneaking up on him so often that he'd started telling JARVIS to warn him when she was in a ten foot radius, though often times the AI seemed to 'forget' just to enjoy Tony's girlish shouts each and every time she rounded a corner and surprised him.

Thor would proclaim her a valiant warrior, a force to be reckoned with, a fierce maiden worthy of a place in Asgard and Valhalla alike! He would also say that she was intelligent, and that she always seemed to remember the foods he liked the most, the stories he told her, the little things he mentioned every so often because he was still learning as much as he could about Midgard.

Steve would say that she was trustworthy and strong, a good person. He would blush a little, maybe, and say that she was a beautiful woman while he rubbed at the back of his neck. In the end, he'd shrug and say that she was his friend, and a really good friend at that.

Bruce wouldn't say much, but he'd definitely make sure that whoever asked knew exactly how brave she was.

And then there was Clint. The archer would describe her as a cross between fucking terrifying and alarmingly cute, but he had all the bias of a proud older brother, so his opinion was kind of skewed. He would, however, freely admit that she was _determined_ and dangerous when it came to her enemies, stealthy and impossibly stubborn at the same time. Normally, he was the one person who knew Natasha the most, who knew her ins and outs, the things that made her happy, the things that really ticked her off and the things that would turn her into something resembling warm. Most of the time, he respected her as a partner, a friend, a similarly intelligent person---

"You're out of your goddamn mind."

They were sitting on the roof of the Tower, Natasha's legs dangling over the side, her arms folded against the lower part of the railing in front of them. Clint had been laying on his back, hands folded behind his head, until she'd revealed her master plan to him just a second ago. And _clearly_ , she'd been hit on the head one too many times.

"Why? He wants to, deep down. He just needs a push in the right direction."

Clint shook his head obstinately, giving her a look that said very plainly that he thought she was nuts. Getting Steve into bed with someone would be like giving Leo an Oscar at last. He launched into a thorough explanation of why she was losing it, including a thinly veiled attempt to get her to submit to some kind of psychiatric testing, but she remained completely focused on her goal and Clint just shook his head, laying back down and mentally preparing himself for what was sure to be one hell of a show.

Natasha was going to get Steve laid.

 

_Attempt One: Speed Dating_

The question of the day was: How was Natasha going to con Steve into signing up for speed dating? As it turned out, the answer was pretty simple. She signed up herself and asked him to come along, because she didn't want to do it alone. And, because Steve was just a nice guy, he agreed. They showed up together to the restaurant where it was being held, little candles at the center of several tables set up in two long lines, one chair on each side of each one. Once they'd given up their information and gotten their little nametags, they were split up and Natasha was given a table- number fourteen- to sit at.

Honestly, the things she did for her friends.

Twelve men had come and gone by the time Steve landed in front of her, looking appropriately worn out and slightly confused as to why he was doing this. He greeted her and leaned over the table enough for her to see that his card- the card where he should have been marking down the women he liked- was empty.

"Nat, why am I here exactly?"

Natasha pressed her lips together and pointing her little pencil at him, giving him a fierce look. She couldn't say anything about there being no matches because that wasn't something that was guaranteed, but she was _sure_ that at least one of the women he'd met marked him down. Why hadn't he chosen a single one? Parting her lips again, she was just about to tell him off when the stupid bell rang and she sighed, sitting back and waving him off to the next table.

Out of curiosity, she asked him to wait for her when it was over and flirted up a storm with one of the men running the whole thing, asking him how many women Steve marked down. "One," he said. "And it wasn't a match."

Suddenly, Natasha had another thought. Despite their shared kiss in the mall, she was starting to wonder... Was Steve really into women at all?

"Of course he's into women!" Clint insisted later that night, laying longways near the foot of her bed. "Even if he's into guys, it can't be full time because he had that British chick back in the day..."

Natasha wasn't entirely convinced. "No one goes through speed dating without making at least a few people down," she reasoned, shaking her head.

“Why are you doing this again?” Clint wondered, his head hanging off the edge of her bed as he watched Natasha stretch her arms over her head and gracefully move into a deep bow, one leg straight up in the air.

“Stretching?” she countered. “It keeps me limber.” She threw him a wink and Clint rolled his eyes, finally sitting up.

“No”, he said slowly. “Why are you doing all this just to get Steve laid? Why don’t you ever try to get _me_ laid? Or, you know, get laid yourself.” Natasha sighed and straightened up, gracefully sliding back down into a split and bending forward to stretch further—and perhaps getting Clint’s idle interest as she did so.

“Steve needs to get out there,” she reasoned. “He can’t just hide for the rest of his life and wind up all alone. If I don’t help him, who will?” Moving again, she slid into a smooth somersault and arched back, planting her hands on the floor. “I don’t need to get laid,” she added after a moment. “And neither do you.” Clint disagreed with that, and a little huff as he laid back down told her that he wasn’t so certain about her reasons for getting Steve laid either.


	2. Attempt Two: Strip Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, but I only separated the chapters for organization. Hope you enjoy it. ^^

_Attempt Two: Strip Club_

After some consideration, Natasha decided that her second attempt would be to take Steve to a strip club to find out two things; first, whether or not he was _really_ interested in women and second, what kind of woman he liked. Both were questions that really needed to be answered before she proceeded because if she was looking for a /man/ for Captain America, things had to change.

Needless to say, after promising Steve a 'night out' and dragging him to a strip club instead, Natasha did get her answer. "So," she mused as she rushed out of the club on Steve's heels, observing the dark flush on his cheeks with nearly as much amusement as she considered the definite bulge in his pants. "You really are into women, huh?"

And he liked them confident. Natasha figured physical features weren't too much of a concern for him, though he didn't seem to immediately love the leggy blondes Tony preferred. He hadn't even looked up at the sweet offerings of one of the girls, who was trying to play innocent. No, he'd like the one who strutted over and straddled his lap. Natasha had to agree- she was pretty hot, but there was a part of her that was inwardly claiming that she could do it better and the spy did all she could to shut that down as soon as it made itself known.

"You did _what_?" Clint was basically flabbergasted, stopping mid punch and getting a retaliation from Natasha that included being knocked off his feet and pinned.

"Took him to a strip club," she repeated. "You should have seen his face." Clint shook his head and knocked her off, wrestling with her for a moment before pinning her down instead. "I can't believe you took Captain America to a strip club," he repeated, and she tilted her head to the side. "I have good news." She folded her legs up, wrapped them around his neck and flipped them over again, taking a seat right on his chest. "He's a man, just like all the others, and he's _definitely_ into women."


	3. Attempt Three: The Date

_Attempt Three: The Date_

Her third attempt was textbook and, though Natasha was very proud of her choice and the careful way she planned out the whole thing, Clint thought she could do much better. She really should have known that setting Steve up on a proper date (in the most backhanded fashion) would end in disaster, and it did, but she went along with it anyway. She’d begun the whole thing by asking Steve to go to a baseball game with her, because she had won tickets in some contest and felt like she needed to see Mr. All-American in a baseball stadium.

And again, because Steve was a sweet, mostly unassuming kind of guy, he agreed. To be honest, /he/ should have noticed something was up the minute she insisted that she supervise his wardrobe, forcing him to trade in the jacket he clung to like a security blanket in favor of a blue hoodie and a baseball cap. Perfect. They headed out and she even let him buy her a hot dog before they took their seats to watch the game.

Of course, his real date showed up fifteen minutes later and Natasha stood up, feigning surprise at seeing her there and insisting in a rush of movement that Vanessa take her seat despite the available seats around them. She was an acquaintance from the gym Natasha frequented, an instructor for a very popular class on kickboxing. Standing a few inches taller than Natasha with long, blonde hair pulled into a braid that hung over her shoulder and legs that went on for ages, she was quite the beauty. And she was more than happy to take a seat next to a flustered Captain America while Natasha quietly excused herself to go to the ladies’ room and disappeared for the rest of the game.

The problem was that when she came back to check on them, she caught the end of a heated ‘discussion’ that Steve was clearly losing, followed by Vanessa lifting her cup of water and— oh, no. Natasha actually cringed as it poured over Steve’s head, soaking him, his shirt, his sweater and the cap he was wearing. She might have face-palmed right there, but she’d never admit to it out loud.

When Natasha explained what had happened, which was lacking details because Steve refused to speak to her on the way home, Clint was laughing for nearly an hour. “Captain fucking America!” he gasped, trying to control his breathing. “Who would have thought that he could even insult a woman to the point that she would dump fucking _water_ over him…” He continued even as Natasha pressed her lips together and arched one eyebrow, giving him a warning look. Really, he should have seen the pillow coming at him _before_ it hit him in the face.

It was clear that a date like that was the wrong way to go. Natasha needed more options and that night, while she was curled up in Clint's bed because she didn't feel like going to her own, she considered what those options might be. He needed to be given a chance to make a good impression, but in such a way that he didn't immediately mess up and wind up wet again. Hm.


	4. Attempt Four: Online Dating

_Attempt Four: Online Dating_

This was by far the best idea Natasha had come up with. An online dating profile meant she could weed out the weird ones and figure out matches before even approaching Steve with them! He barely had to be involved! After some consideration, she chose a respectable, well known website (despite the urge to sign him up for a site designed for hook ups) and signed him up, filling out his profile for him and posting a very flattering picture of him smiling widely in a group photo, with everyone else cut out.

The response was instantaneous. There were dozens of women who recognized him, even more who just wanted a chance to get to know the sweet man in the picture- the one who said he liked working out and sketching strangers in the park. They wanted a chance to be the 'right partner', like Natasha had indicated in the 'About Me' section of Steve's profile. She thought she'd done a pretty good thing, tossing her friend back into the world of dating via the technology he'd been missing back in the day. And when she chose five perfect profiles from the lot, casually handing them to Steve while he was eating his breakfast, she couldn't understand why he had to go and find fault with each and every one of them.

When she'd gone to Clint, ranting about how annoyed she was that he was so fucking _picky_ and detailing again the highlights of the Kindergarten teacher, yoga instructor, editor, model and professor she'd chosen, he made an observation Natasha just hadn't considered before. "Tasha, what if he doesn't want to date?" Sometimes all it took was Clint and the little things he noticed. Obviously, she'd been making this way too complicated. Maybe, since Steve was like every other man, he was also like the men who had commitment issues. As much as she kind of wanted to believe otherwise, maybe he didn't _want_ a relationship.

 


	5. Attempt Five: Clubbing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is a little longer than the last three have been. And it gets pretty intense between them. XD

_Attempt Five: Clubbing_

Plan… She didn’t even know what she was up to by then, but Natasha’s newest plan was a little less involved. If all she was doing was trying to get him laid, then it wasn’t necessary to set up a date. What he needed was a one-night stand. Once she’d apologized in her own way, meaning she’d invited him for a spar and worked him to the point where he looked like he was about to collapse, she decided that the whole team was going out for a night of clubbing. Tony agreed immediately, as did Thor and Clint, but Bruce and Steve were more hesitant. In the end, Bruce agreed because Tony persuaded him (in what way, Natasha didn’t want to know) and Steve agreed because she told him it was supposed to be a bonding experience.

This time, she let Tony tackle Steve into a pair of dark jeans, a tight t-shirt and his leather jacket, even putting a little product into his hair to complete the look. She hoped that by taking a backseat, he might be more willing to give in to what was happening, whether he liked it or not. Tony chose to wear a suit, Bruce a button down with an open collar, Clint a t-shirt and jeans, and Thor a t-shirt with a black vest he’d found somewhere and loved. For her own outfit, she chose a pair of skin tight, dark wash jeans and a red corset top, along with a leather jacket of her own. When Natasha came out to join them, platform heels clicking along the polished floor of the lobby, her first thought was that they all looked very, very handsome.

They ate at a restaurant Natasha had chosen simply for the atmosphere- low lighting, Asian-inspired decor, and the best pork dumplings in the city as far as she was concerned. It was as fun and easy as ever to watch Thor attempt chopsticks and Bruce try to conceal his laughter as he helped the god’s clumsy fingers bend around the little sticks. Natasha wound up across from Steve and she met his gaze a few times, catching him staring at her in a way that was too obvious to be anything but what it was. Good. He’d be all fired up for whatever women wanted to dance with him at the club.

It was when they reached the club that Natasha realized her mistake.

Well, mistakes. So many mistakes.

First of all, Steve could not dance. Not even a little bit. Bruce looked awkward enough, but Steve looked so incredibly stiff up there that she wanted to ask him whether or not too little fabric softener was used the last time he washed his clothes. She was also a little tempted to ask him whether or not Tony was right about the iron pole up his ass. Even Thor, poor Thor, tried to dance with him and Steve was about as rhythmic as a red, white and blue totem pole.

Second of all, women _flocked_ to Steve like ducks to clearly available water. It wasn’t just one or two bold women who sidled up to him and asked him to dance. No, it was all of them. Natasha found herself actually impressed by just how many women wanted their turn with someone who could barely move and looked slightly more terrified than anyone in a club should. To top it off, men went after him too, though she watched him politely turn them away with all the grace of a wounded seagull.

Third of all, and perhaps most importantly, Steve was so obviously not interested in a one night stand that Natasha had to take a second to question her own sanity. Seriously, the guy was turning down women left and right, no matter how scantily clad they were, no matter how they rubbed against him, no matter what kinds of words they were probably murmuring into his ear. And yes, her own jaw might have clenched when one particularly bold woman slid her hand down the soldier's chest and toyed with his belt buckle, leaning close to say something to him.

“Having fun?” Natasha glanced to the side and glared at Clint, who was giving her this wide, knowing look like he could read every thought going through her mind. Bastard. “Steve sure is popular, isn’t he?” Uncrossing her arms from where they’d been folded under her chest, she pressed her lips together and realized for the first time that perhaps she didn’t _want_ to watch every woman in the room flirt with her—with the soldier.

She really needed a drink. Abandoning Clint to the little brunette asking him to dance, Natasha headed to the bar and ordered two shots of straight vodka, hopping up to sit on the closest stool and enjoy her alcohol, not that it would do much. Why was it bothering her so much? They were doing exactly what she wanted them to- giving Steve options for the lucky girl he could go home with that night, or take home with him. And if they were doing what she wanted, then she really shouldn’t have a knot in her stomach at all. But she did, and it was growing increasingly inconvenient as the time went on.

Eventually, she was pulled from her inner monologue by a light touch on her lower back and, she presumed an equally distracting man beside her. But when she turned, one eyebrow arched in a question that might have landed her a warm body that night, she was looking up at Steve. Pressing her lips together, she gave him an entirely impatient look because he was supposed to be picking a girl, not chatting with his fr—

“Do you wanna dance?”

No.

“…Okay.”

What? Wait—

Before she could stop it and maybe figure out why she didn’t _want_ to stop it, Steve was taking her hand and pulling her into the throng of bodies already on the dance floor. He spun her around and Natasha’s eyes narrowed in suspicion because two seconds ago, he’d been a wooden figure and now… Now, he pulled her to him like all the other couples, her back pressed tight to his chest, his hand settled on her hip. What the hell was going on?

All in all, it was great until it was too much. She’d turned to press against him that way, their legs woven together, her hips keeping the beat against his. Looking up, she could meet his eyes and see that he was breathing hard, pupils blown, that the contact was new to him, that he liked it. But it was when he ducked his head down to her shoulder and just barely brushed his lips against her neck that she had to step away.

She shoved against his chest, gentler than she actually meant to, and stepped back. “Good,” she praised, trying her best to keep her features still and unreadable. “Good. You’re getting better.” She grabbed the first girl she saw and dragged her between them, meeting Steve’s eyes for a fleeting second over the girl’s shoulder and trying to decipher the look in them. “Go on,” she encouraged. “Have fun, soldier.” With a wink, she ducked away and managed to escape the suffocating air of the club in favor of the street behind it.

That had been far too intimate to be ‘fun’. Natasha let herself rest against her chosen wall, still breathing hard and trying to get the feeling of his big hands on her out of her head. It was harder than she thought it would be to forget the way he’d touched her, the way he was so _warm_ , the way he just barely brushed over her neck, making her eyes flutter as she tried not to just—

No! No, she _couldn’t_ do this. Not with him. She was supposed to be getting him laid, not fucking him herself. Then again… Did it really matter _who_ he had sex with, as long as he got some? She could easily stand in for any of the women he’d turned down, but he clearly had some kind of attraction for her… Was she _seriously_ considering this? Where was Clint when she needed him? Poking her head back inside, she quickly spotted the archer, grabbed his arm, and wordlessly dragging him back to her alley for some much needed guidance.

“I fucking _knew_ it!” he shouted immediately after she’d mentioned to him that she might be considering sex with Steve, his voice reverberating off the walls around them and earning him a dirty look from Natasha that quieted him right down. He stepped back a little, sliding his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth like a scolded child. “Well, I did,” he mumbled petulantly. She sighed, leaning back against the wall.

“If he wants me right now and my goal is to get him laid, then why shouldn’t I let him have what he wants?” Clint scoffed and she turned to look at him when his back landed against the wall beside her.

“You make it sound like he doesn’t always want you.” Natasha was just about to tell him that _he_ was the one who was out of his mind, but the door opened again and—speak of the devil, Steve stepped out.

“Clint, you think I could talk to Nat for a second?” he asked, seemingly at ease with the whole situation. “Um, alone. Please.” Damn him. Clint nodded, turning to give her an obnoxious wink before he headed back inside.

“You two kids have fun.” He’d pay, later on, if Natasha had anything to say about it.

Turning her eyes to Steve, Natasha was horrified to realize that her heart was pounding to the point where she had to wonder if he could hear it somehow. As he came closer, she let him crowd her against the wall and didn’t throw up a single defense. “You look _really_ nice tonight,” he murmured, meeting her gaze with a confidence she was startled to find suited him really well. The question was whether or not the rest of his sweet persona was an act, and whether or not he knew that he was definitely channeling his inner sex god.

“Take a picture, soldier,” she quipped. “It might last longer.” As he chuckled and stepped closer, resting his hand on the wall near her head, Natasha told herself again that she was just doing this to land her goal. He was just like a mark. She was going this _solely_ for the purpose of getting him laid, one way or another.

In fact, she was repeating the same thing to herself like a mantra as he leaned down, two fingers curled under her chin, and pressed their lips together. It was for him. She wasn’t even going to enjoy it. She was going to stay _completely_ objective here. Except that his kisses weren’t the sweet, playful things she might have expected. They weren’t shy and nice, boring and maybe a little clumsy. No, Steve’s kisses were _intense_. He kissed her like she was all he’d ever wanted and Natasha found herself kissing back because with this kind of passion, she didn’t have to pretend.

Captain America was a naughty, naughty boy. There was definite inexperience there, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and the kind of fast learning she knew she’d grow to admire as the night went on. And because she was _only doing this to loosen him up_ , she could do this without any sort of thoughts relating to consequences or feelings or any of that. Right? Right.

Returning the kiss, she moved her hands to his sides and gripped his shirt, pulling him against her to encourage him to continue. Maybe it was better this way, if he lost his virginity to someone he trusted, who knew what she was doing. Then he could branch out and find a girl to actually date. It all made sense in Natasha’s head, thank goodness, because with the way he was trailing down, eagerly kissing and sucking at the skin on her neck, she was sure that all rational thought was going to leave her, if it hadn’t already.

Two big hands slid over her hips to her ass, gripping gently and making her chuckle out loud as her hips were pulled right against his, but it stopped short there as she gasped –damnit, this was supposed to be professional- and slid her fingers into his belt loops, tugging him against her as firmly as she could.

Captain America, as it turned out, was also hard as a fucking rock.

Quickly turning around when she found their position to be lacking, Natasha pressed her hands firmly against the wall and settled her ass against his crotch, letting out a breathy laugh as his arm slid around her waist and he rolled his hips, offering a deep groan in reply. She could get him off that way, if she wanted to. They were both panting already and if the hard line of his erection was anything to go by, Steve was definitely on his way. It would be enough, but to her surprise he spun her around and pressed her back again, sealing their lips together in a deep, heated kiss.

…What was the goal here again?

Get Steve laid. Right, well… Natasha had to congratulate herself because she was well on her way to achieving that. He clearly wanted it, she was ready and willing to make sure he got some and if they didn’t get out of that alley, they might risk making the morning papers should someone come by and see them. She wondered if voicing her intent- that is, the intent to get back to his place- would break the spell, but decided to do it anyway.

“Take me home,” she breathed against his lips. And then, because she just knew he would want to warn the others that they were leaving— “Clint will know where we are.”

That was apparently all he needed to hear because a moment later, he was dragging her out by her hand and hailing them a cab to get back to the Tower. Once they slid into the backseat, she made the executive decision that stopping for the ride would just meant that he might be questioning his own decisions when they got back. To circumvent any delay, she nimbly straddled his lap and pressed her hips down, sliding her fingers through his hair and pulling him into another kiss. The driver, she supposed, would have quite the story for his friends.

Again, he surprised her by letting his hands slid up the length of her thighs, around to her ass, even up and under the hem of her shirt. As he toyed with the laces keeping it tight around her, letting out a huff of disapproval, she managed to get a hand between them and rub right against him with the palm of her hand. The way he moaned into her mouth was just this side of completely wanton and she loved it. That was one thing she would readily admit to herself.

They arrived just before Natasha had actually unbuckled Steve’s belt and had at him right there in the taxi. Luckily for her, the car stopped and Steve dug around for his wallet to pay, handing the driver a generous amount to make up for the fact that they were necking like horny teenagers in the backseat. Natasha wouldn’t actually admit that she didn’t make it past the lobby before she reached beside her and squeezed his ass, only waiting for the elevator to press him up against one of the walls and kiss him hard. For his benefit, of course. Not because she wanted to.

By the time they reached the right floor (her floor, she noticed, not his), he'd removed her jacket and tried (and failed) to unlace the ribbons tying her corset. Natasha had managed to get him out of his jacket and his t-shirt, both abandoned on the floor of the elevator. It was Natasha who grabbed the discarded articles of clothing before they headed out, tossing them in the direction of the living room while she led Steve down the hall to her bedroom instead. Only after she'd shoved him onto the mattress did she reach back and get her shirt off, letting it fall to the floor and climbing onto his lap naked from the waist up.

From there, it was easy to kiss her way down his chest and finally unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of the loops and letting it join the growing pile of clothing on the floor. She liked that he let her have control. Climbing over him, she let their legs tangle together and shoved at his jeans along with her own, shivering as his warm hands slid down her back and under her belt, aiding her in ridding them of their remaining clothing. Skin to skin, Steve was abnormally warm. Everything about him, it seemed, was as impressive as he was upon first sight- an observation that was solidified the moment she straddled his hips and slid down onto him, lips parting as she adjusted to his size.

Planting her hands on his chest, Natasha began to rock her hips in smooth movements, her gaze locking with his as he slid his hands over her thighs again, up to her hips, squeezing lightly and even pressing his hips up to meet her. Alright, so she'd lied. She was enjoying this. _Immensely_. Eventually arching her back, she leaned back and gripped his thighs as she continued to ride him, letting her head fall back as she sought out her imminent release. Honestly, she hadn't expected it to be this good... or maybe she hadn't let herself believe that it would be, but it was. It was a real shame she'd have to give him up to someone else.

When she came, her walls fluttering and clenching around him, a moan escaping her before she could stop it, Natasha barely had time to work through it before she was flipped onto her back and found herself staring up into two very blue eyes. At first, she laid under him with her arms thrown up above her head, but they moved without any cognizant thought she could recognize, slipping around his neck as he started up his own rhythm, thrusting into her just as roughly as she'd been riding him. A fast learner, she reminded herself. Winding her legs around his waist, Natasha didn't have to pretend to arch her back in pleasure or moan his name or ask for more because all of that came naturally.

He came inside her with a gasp of her name, his head buried in her neck as he slowly came down from his high. For her part, Natasha just lightly patted the back of his head, his hair damp from their exertion, and sighed. Worth it. Definitely worth it. It was just perfect until he opened his mouth, having already pulled out and landed on his back beside her.

“Now, are you gonna let me date who I want to date?” he asked casually, turning his head to meet her eyes, filled with suspicion and a little bit of confusion. Did he have someone in mind? Why the hell had they done this if he had someone in mind? Seriously, she was beginning to believe that Steve was actually a troublemaker to rival Tony and Clint.

“If you're telling me that you've had a girl in mind this whole time,” she warned. “I might just have to kill you.” She moved, flipping onto her stomach and pointing up at him. “Tell me who. Now. I've spent way too much time trying to set you up to be left in the dark.” And she did want to set him up. Except for, of course, the fact that what could only be described as 'dread' had settled in the pit of her stomach. Probably just indigestion.

Steve had the unmitigated gall to chuckle, folding his hands together behind his head. “Just a girl,” he answered dreamily. “A gorgeous, amazing girl. I can really see it happening between us, you know?”

For some reason, that put a bad taste in Natasha's mouth and she insisted they go to sleep- “Before I hurt you for being difficult.” She even let him hold her, resting her head on his chest and her arm around his middle, taking comfort in his deep, steady breathing.

 


	6. Hail Mary Attempt: A Date for Natasha

_Hail Mary Attempt: A Date for Natasha_

To her surprise, dealing with the aftermath of their night together wasn't difficult at all. They got dressed in the morning, had breakfast together and life continued as usual. Natasha had an afternoon session with Clint, during which he asked about a thousand questions that she couldn't answer, no matter how hard she tried or how much she definitively wanted to.

“What was he like?” She shrugged. “Bad?” She shook her head. “Nat, give me _something_ ,” he pleaded. “I'm dying here.” Frustrated, she sprang into a somersault and tackled him down, sitting on his stomach as she tried to figure out what the right thing to say was. Honestly, for once she just wasn't sure.

“He was really good,” she said eventually, leaving it at that and peering down at Clint like he might have the answers to the rest of _her_ questions, such as why she didn't even like the sound of trying to set him up again, or why she wanted him in her bed again that night.

Clint stared back, tilting his head to the side. “You like him,” he said, and it sounded so accusing to Natasha that she tightened her thighs threateningly and narrowed her eyes at him. “Come on, Tasha. It's not so bad. He obviously likes you too. Just ask him out or something.” Shaking her head, Natasha pulled him up and flipped him over, pinning him there and gravely saying she'd won before slipping away and heading for the showers.

Four days later, after seeing suspiciously little of both Steve and Clint, Natasha accepted a mission wherein she was supposed to appear at a high end restaurant on the other side of the city and get information from a contact who would meet her there. She dressed the part, choosing a black dress with a halter top and an a-line skirt, along with black peep-toe heels to match. She kept her makeup simple; bright red lipstick and dark eyeliner, and put her hair up, a few tendrils escaping to frame her face. For a simple mission like this one, she intended to enjoy at least one drink at the bar anyway, so she might as well look her best.

As a spy and an assassin, Natasha was caught between being impressed and horrified when her 'contact' turned out to be Steve, all dressed up in a gorgeous suit and giving her a once over followed by a wide smile. “Just when I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful,” he quipped, taking a seat on the bar stool beside her. A quick glance down at the lily in his hand told her more than she needed to know; she'd been set up, Clint was fucking involved and there was no way she was getting out of this. As she accepted the flower, she wondered whether or not Steve knew that she was---

“Before you say anything,” he continued. “Clint only helped me because I asked him to. But I'm really glad he did because you were going to wind up with daisies instead of a lily and I'm pretty sure just asking you out would have gotten me a big, fat rejection. And yeah, I realize that this is kind of sneaky, but...” He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “Payback's a bitch.”

Chuckling at her amused expression, he leaned back again and rubbed his palm over his thigh- a nervous habit that drew her gaze to his lap for a moment and made him blush. She still hadn't said anything other than the very crass swear she'd muttered in Russian when he turned up. “So, if you don't mind.. Could we just move past the sneakiness, forget that you've been trying not to date me for like months now and have dinner? On me. I'll even let you get dessert.”

Pressing her lips together, Natasha stood up and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in the skirt of her dress. “Fine,” she answered. “But I want a drink too.” Despite the fact that she was more than a little uncomfortable, she let him lead her to a table for two, giving him another amused look when he pulled her chair out for her. They settled in for a nice meal: steak and potatoes for him, salmon and rice for her. He had whiskey, not that it would do a damn thing, and she chose white wine to accompany her fish. It took Natasha a few minutes (about halfway through her meal, but who was keeping track?), but she did eventually loosen up enough to actually talk to Steve, laughing when he told the actual story of what had happened with that woman during the baseball game. It was easy to just be herself when he was the one sitting across the table from her.

And Natasha was still smiling after dessert, when they left the restaurant and he took her hand right there on the street. In fact, she was still smiling when he spun her around once, pulled her close and kissed her, his free hand settled on her lower back. They were wandering through the city, his arm around her shoulders, her arm around his waist, when he asked her the question she'd been expecting since the moment they'd sat down for dinner.

“Are you ever gonna tell me why you were avoiding this in the first place?” He looked down at her, not particularly upset or hurt by the idea, but interested. Natasha wasn't sure what to say. Why _had_ she been avoiding it? Because she didn't think she was good enough? Because she had this image in her head of Steve, his pretty little wife and two kids, a dog laying at their feet? Because she didn't _do_ relationships for a very good reason- that being the fact that she seduced people for work? Love was for children, damnit. Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed quietly.

“I don't know,” she admitted. “I guess--” Stopping herself there, she looked up at him in mild outrage, because she wasn't one hundred percent sure yet. “Did you know the _whole time_?”

It was Steve's turn to give her a sheepish smile and shrug, rubbing again at the back of his neck. “Well, yeah. I mean, I was hoping. And Clint kept dropping hints. I gotta admit, the fact that you were setting me up with every other woman on the planet was kind of confusing, but you're a complicated kind of gal...” He chuckled and Natasha pressed her lips together. It all made sense.

The person he'd chosen at speed dating that wasn't a match? It was her. The reason he'd so willingly said yes to the baseball game was because he wanted to spend time with her. He agreed to go out that night she took him to the strip club for the same reason. Hell, even his objections to the online dating profiles related to her. Well, fuck.

“You could have just told me,” she mumbled, readjusting her head on his shoulder when she realized that she'd been played-- or maybe it was just that he was letting her get the whole thing out of her system before he made his move. Either way, she was kind of impressed. He laughed again and squeezed her shoulders, looking down at her.

“Oh, I don't know,” he mused. “Watching you get all frustrated because I didn't like anyone you threw at me was pretty fun to watch.”

She poked him hard in his ribs just as they reached the Tower again and he laughed even more, turning and taking her hands as he bent down for another kiss. “I'd like to see you again,” he admitted. “Like this, only without the heavy tone of espionage.”

Natasha considered him for a long moment, pretending to consider her options, though she kind of figured Steve knew the answer already. “Captain,” she said eventually, smoothing her hand up to grab his tie and pull him back down. “You're not done seeing me tonight.”

On their way up, Natasha's hand tucked possessively into Steve's back pocket, they ran into a very smug looking Clint. “Don't hurt me,” he said right away, keeping his back to a wall. All Natasha did was give him a dangerous look... followed by what could be described as a nearly giddy smile, just barely hidden from Steve. Clint rolled his eyes as he watched them go, muttering to himself about how rich he'd be if he just started a matchmaking service for stupid people like them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading through the whole thing! Please leave a comment to let me know what you thought! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Much more lighthearted this time, considering the stuff I usually write. Lemme know what you think and thanks for reading! <3


End file.
